


Five Words

by Victorious56



Series: Numerically Speaking [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, awareness of feelings, get a knife to cut that tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25896079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorious56/pseuds/Victorious56
Summary: Qrow and Clover have a date, a meal at their favourite restaurant. But this time, something seems different.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Numerically Speaking [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870408
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Five Words

Clover taps his chin, looking from the smart shirt on the hanger, to the polo shirt draped on the bed. The dress shirt is new, and he's been waiting for the right time to wear it, but... _This is only a casual date, not a special occasion. Don't want to seem overly keen..._

Even though he is.

Clover hangs the shirt back in the wardrobe, opting for the other with its varying stripes of red, green, grey, and white. Not the kind of thing he generally wears, but for some reason, this one caught his eye. He remembers what his sister had told him, years ago. "Red and green should never be seen."

Well, in this instance, she was wrong.

  


Qrow hums as he leaves the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. He's enjoying life right now, and hoping it won't start to go wrong. Things generally do, but this time it _does_ seem different. _He_ feels different. He feels differently about Clover...

For the longest time, Qrow can't recall feeling like this. Setting aside the intermittent physical encounters he's had, there's been nothing, really. Not since the Beacon days, anyway. But now, when he thinks about Clover, it isn't just the physical aspect which lingers on his mind. There is so much more to Clover than his attractive body, and anyway, they haven't taken that step. Not yet. But Qrow is sure they will, at least, if Clover feels as he does.

Qrow groans. It was a consequence of thinking about Clover which made him take a shower, even though he'd already showered earlier in the day. And now, just _thinking about_ thinking about Clover, and it was happening again. The heat rising within him, the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears...

He pulls the towel from his body; the roughness of it against his skin is temptation enough. _I can't get dressed in this state, anyway_. Qrow gathers up the towels and returns to the bathroom, wondering what the other man might say—or do—if he knew of Qrow's current condition.

  


Clover picks up the polo shirt, enjoying the sensation of the new, never-before-worn fabric. He looks again at the colours— the soft green is not so different from his eye colour, in a certain light. And the red— more a pale crimson, evoking an image in his mind. Eyes meeting his, in the dim interior of a supply truck. Eyes warm and smiling, as Clover left the room that evening at the manor. Eyes which Clover knew were following him, causing a thrill to run through his body. Eyes he would be looking into very soon, across the table at their favourite restaurant.

 _Well, I will if I get a move on. Don't want to be late._ He pulls the shirt over his head, drawing it down across his chest and abdomen. The idea of someone other than himself removing the shirt, hands brushing against his skin, causes Clover's breath to hitch. He wonders what Qrow would do, if he were here right now.

  


Qrow removes the shirt from the wardrobe. It's one of his favourites of the new clothes he's acquired since their arrival. A close-fitting black shirt, with dark red spirals printed across the front. Choosing what to wear is still something of a novelty, so his thoughts are not focused on Clover for a while. As Qrow slides the shirt on and begins to button it, he can't help but smile. He knows that Clover likes this shirt, knows that his eyes will move across it until they reach Qrow's face. He knows Clover's lips will part slightly, and he knows that he wants to kiss Clover, now, and for always...

_What? What... does that mean?_

  


Clover sits down to pull his boots on. The rip in his jeans, the one across the front of the left thigh, stretches as his muscles flex. It rips a little more, but Clover doesn't mind. He knows Qrow likes these jeans, knows that he will find the rip under the table during their meal. Clover knows how Qrow's fingers will, oh so delicately, trace around the edges of the rip, before slipping under the fabric...

Clover stands up abruptly, slowing down his breathing deliberately. Rather than sit here thinking about Qrow, he knows he should be leaving for their date. But thinking about Qrow is such a pleasurable pastime. And he wants to dwell on the thoughts of the other man's hands drifting across his skin, just for a little longer...

  


The restaurant is a little quieter than usual, as it's early in the week. They sit at their regular table, and Clover smiles at the thought.

"What is it?" asks Qrow. Not that he cares _why_ the man opposite is smiling. Just seeing it is enough.

"It occurred to me, we've been here so many times, we have our own table now."

"Is that a problem? Not getting bored with it, are you?" Qrow's hand is under the table; Clover's anticipation has not been misplaced.

"Qrow, I don't think I could get bored of anything, with you." Clover's voice hitches as Qrow rubs the base of his thumb against Clover's leg. "But, I won't be able to do the food justice unless you stop— oh gods, Qrow, please—"

Qrow withdraws his hand, after giving Clover's upper thigh a firm squeeze. The younger man is staring at him, a forgotten forkful of food midway to his mouth. Qrow smiles slowly, before returning to his own meal, avoiding Clover's eyes as he does so. His own breathing is quickened; he has never experienced this intensity of feeling before, with anyone.

They finish their meal; the lemon sorbet just what is needed to cool down the heat which is building across the table. It is Qrow's turn to pay; his fingers tremble slightly as they hold the scroll against the reader at the counter. Clover is standing just a little closer than he needs to, and Qrow can _feel_ him, even though there is no contact between their bodies.

The walk back to the barracks is a liberation, the cool air preventing the increasing tension from boiling over too soon. Clover's fingers brush Qrow's lightly; Qrow almost stumbles from the touch, catching Clover's arm with one hand. That almost breaks the dam, but Qrow removes his hand, glances up at Clover, the smallest of smiles on his lips.

Clover cannot quite catch his breath; the man beside him is so _present_ , filling his mind. _What's changed? I've never felt so... Qrow, I think..._

His thought remains incomplete as they pass through the barracks entrance. The guard raises a hand as the Captain and the Huntsman walk by; they are a regular sight after all. Clover returns the gesture, and Qrow grabs his arm as he lowers it.

"Clover, can we— I mean, do you want to—"

"Yes, I do. Very much."

Their steps quicken as they draw near to the accommodation block. Clover's quarters are on the third floor, and after the lift does not arrive within a few seconds, they climb the stairs, two at a time. Qrow is breathless before they even start.

Clover's hand is trembling as he withdraws his scroll to open the door. They almost fall through the doorway, eagerness giving way to desperation. Clover closes the door, flicking the light switch as he moves into the living room. Qrow stands in the centre of the room, chest rising and falling, eyes glittering in the light from the lamps.

Clover moves towards him, raises one hand to touch it lightly against Qrow's chest.

Qrow says the five words he has never before uttered.

"I think I love you."

Clover swallows, the lump in his throat preventing speech. He wants to say the words back, but he cannot. Not because they would be a lie; he knows now, that's why this is so different. He cannot say anything, just smiles at Qrow, lower lip trembling, and gazes into his eyes. Clover nods, and Qrow smiles back.

The air is heavy between them. Clover hooks his fingers through the belt loops of Qrow's trousers, drawing him close. Their faces are almost touching, the breath from each mouth mingling, an atmosphere weighted with desire.

As lips touch, Clover feels a release. "And I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly comments always appreciated, thank you.


End file.
